


the walls that stand between us

by elysiantree



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Interviews, Letters, Lots of Angst, Multi, Murder, knowing me there's gonna be some djwifi smut later so be warned, more tags to come, no beta we die like men BU T if you'd like to beta for me pl e a s e tell me i desperately need one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:21:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27568948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elysiantree/pseuds/elysiantree
Summary: Hawkmoth was defeated three years ago, but nothing's over yet.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Alya Césaire, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, more to come obviously i'm just gonna add as it progresses
Kudos: 6





	the walls that stand between us

**Author's Note:**

> see my title? wasn't that clever??
> 
> also, two posts in two days???? am i dreaming?

The cameras, although dormant, were pointed right at her, and seemed to glare intimidatingly. Nadja shuffled her papers and tapped them on the desk nervously, watching the red timer offscreen out of the corner of her eye. Damn that Alya for jumping out last minute... _ a family emergency,  _ sure, like anybody’d believe that. Arlette had bought the excuse, though, and shoved Nadja into the job with a second’s notice, while Alya went on her merry way. Probably going to the movies or something ridiculous like that...

“Nadja, you’re on in two!” Francis, manning the cameras, called. She flashed him a distracted smile and looked down, digging through her purse for her compact. Pulling it out, she glared at her reflection. Too many wrinkles for television. Manon sure did a number on her...

“One!” someone, probably Arlette, screeched from backstage. Nadja started and quickly picked up her papers, ready for the interview. This could make or break her - and not just her career. She didn’t want to  _ think _ about it, not yet, but part of her knew that now, of all times, Paris desperately needed its reporters.

The timer blared, Francis flipped the switch, and they were on. She flashed her carefully practiced newcaster smile at the camera and adapted a warm, comforting tone of voice. “Thanks for that weather report, Phil,” she began. Now was the part she dreaded. “In recent news…”

She trailed off as she caught sight of Arlette frantically waving at the camera. Peering at her, she mouthed,  _ what? _ as discreetly as she could. Arlette just stared back. She must have imagined it.

“Well,” she said, clenching her teeth. “In recent news, there has been a mysterious spike in civilian murders here in Paris, and many suspect magical involvement. Please welcome some of our very own heroes…”

A spotlight shined on the side of the stage as they walked in, the light glaring painfully off their suits. Rena Rouge led the way, followed by Chat Noir, with a look on his face Nadja couldn’t quite place.

“Now,” Nadja said as they sat down, “Chat Noir and Rena Rouge, thanks so much for accepting this interview. You have agreed to address all questions on this matter, and I can’t tell you how much we appreciate it.”

Rena smiled back at her, but Nadja could see little worry lines on her face. “It’s our pleasure, Nadja. We’re honored to be here.” She glanced at Chat Noir.

“Of course,” he said, and fell silent again.

“Rena,” Nadja said, “what can you tell our viewers about these murders?”

“Well, Nadja, we’re very grateful to have the support and assistance of the Paris Police Department for this case, and although much information has not yet been cleared for the public, I can assure you--” She broke off, and a strange look came onto her face for half a second, so short that Nadja was sure she’d imagined it. “I can assure you that we are doing our very best to identify, locate and apprehend the killer. Now, as I’m sure you know, most killers have a  _ type, _ to use the term. A specific kind of person--for example, one criminal might prefer solely to focus on young men, another old women who live alone.”

“A pattern, of sorts,” Chat Noir interjected. “And lucky for us, whomever committed these murders is using a very traceable pattern.” 

Rena picked up. “Every body found belongs to a woman between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five, with a slim form, dark hair, and green or blue eyes. If you or a family member fits this description, we urge you,” and here she turned towards the camera with a blazing look in her eye and something that Nadja thought might be tears, “be on your guard. Remain on it. Look for suspicious behavior and be wary. Your life, and the lives of those you love, can and will depend on it.”

She sat back in her chair and-- _ those are definitely tears. She’s definitely crying, _ Nadja thought.

“Thanks for that, Rena,” she said.  _ Please stop crying. _ “Now, is it true that most of the victims were found with mysterious--”

And like that, as if time came to a stop, all the lights flickered out in the studio and there was a single, piercing scream. 

“Stay calm!” yelled Chat Noir. “Stay where you are!”

Nadja groped blindly for her purse, where she had a flashlight, and all was chaos for three deafening minutes, and then the lights came back on.

A collective sigh of relief, a few mutters about the old wiring, and everything was calm for a moment, until they saw the body. Arette hung from the rafter, an unadulterated look of terror plastered to her face.

**Author's Note:**

> (yeah, if you couldn't tell, marinette aka ladybug was one of the victims. shes dead yall)
> 
> The idea for this story kept nagging at me. Leave a comment & kudos if you like it, and tell me if you want it to continue! I've only got a little bit more written, but it's a spark ready to become a fire if you catch my drift.


End file.
